Elementos En Contraste
by BeautifulLie1313
Summary: Light and Dark, forever fated to contrast. And sharp contrast is something Antonio has always found beautiful. He knows that in the battle between a flickering candle and the dead of night, neither force ever truly wins. Snapped!Spain, torture, etc.
1. Equilibrium

**AN: Would you look at me, writing? Too bad it's not what I'm supposed to be writing. I had to get this out of my system. It will be multiple chapters, though.  
><strong>**BACKGROUND TIME: This entire story is based off of an RP I did with my friend. She RPs Iggy, and I RP Spain. Basically, the Spain you see here is Inquisition!Spain, or Snapped!Spain. Before everyone says "BUT SPAIN IS TOO NICE!". I get that a lot, because I love to RP Inquisition!Spain. Even Himaruya says that Spain is "two-faced", much like Russia. Don't believe me? Look up the Spanish Inquisition, loves, it's a SUPER FUN time period. If anyone has any other questions on the plot that I haven't made clear, please feel free to ask~!**

**WARNINGS: Torture, mature themes, language**

Pfffffffffft. If I owned Hetalia, Spain would never wear a shirt.

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><p>"Don't you look splendid? I must say, those chains do suit you, <em>Inglaterra<em>. Must be something to do with that adorable "punk" phase of yours, no?" The man before him did not respond. Antonio took this as permission to continue speaking. "Of course, I'm sure you're just _itching_ to have those bonds removed. You have always been so very impatient. Unfortunately I cannot grant you such a luxury yet. Not until I've had my fun." His last words earned him an angry sneer from the Brit, who struggled against the chains. "I'm sure you'll find they're quite secure. I do go to great lengths to keep my prey from escaping." Spain stepped away from his prisoner for a moment to reveal a medium-sized black box. He unlocked it and held it up to show his captive the contents. The Brit mentally registered every object and its purpose, slowly beginning to fully comprehend the treatment he would receive. '_Knives...syringes…a corkscrew…a few pins…and…is that a small hand-drill?' _Arthur swallowed shakily, but maintained his steeled expression. Antonio was not fooled. "Scared, _mi cari__ño_? I'll start you off gentle." He took a small knife from the box and pinched the tip between his fingers, drawing blood. He trailed his fingers down the Brit's face and neck, smearing the sticky red fluid onto porcelain skin. "_Perfecto_. It's nice and sharp." Antonio then ran the knife slowly down England's right arm, making a long, shallow gash in the milky white flesh. Arthur remained silent, knowing that soon, even this freedom would be taken from him. The knife soon found its way to his other arm, which received the same treatment. The Spaniard was displeased with the lack of sound coming from the man in front of him. He moved the blade to the Brit's shoulder and dug it in deep, twisting as we went and earning himself a pained scream. "There we go. I was beginning to fear you had gone mute." He ripped the knife from Arthur's torn flesh.

"AHG! You… bloody bastard." Arthur glared at the Spaniard, who just an hour before had drugged him unconscious and chained him up in what looked like a wine cellar. Antonio smirked back, his eyes bright and feral. "Do try and watch your language, _amor_. Wouldn't want to have to cut out that tongue of yours, I'm sure there are _much _better things it can be used for." England shuddered at this. "You crazy, sick fuck! Go to hell!" Antonio chuckled at Arthur's display, replacing the small knife with a slightly larger one. Wordlessly he sliced into England's legs, drawing forth shrill cries of agony. At this, he grinned mischievously, and slid the flat of the blade down Arthur's thigh, causing him to shiver. A sharp twist of the knife caused the Brit to once more shout out in pain. "Hell, you say? I believe that _Dios_ has proven Himself to be on my side, no? You're the one who's suffering here, aren't you?" Arthur scoffed at this. "This is _not_ the will of God, you prick! You're nothing but a demon, and for that you ought to rot for the rest of eternity!" He spat at the Spaniard, hitting him square in the cheek. Antonio wiped the fluid from his face and slipped the knife under Arthur's chin, pressing it gently against the soft skin and causing a trickle of blood to roll its way down England's neck. "You little _puta. _How dare you suggest that I would work against God? Heh, the nerve you have, when you are completely at my mercy." He lifted the Brit's chin up slightly with his knife to emphasize his point. Then in one fluid motion, nimble finger slipped the knife back into the box and produced a sinister looking syringe filled with clear fluids. Arthur eyed it warily. "What's that?" Spain let out a low, rumbling laugh, dark enough to send shivers down England's spine.

"I couldn't tell you. I'm afraid I don't quite know myself. But we'll have a fun little time figuring it out, won't we, _mi muñequito_?" Arthur shook his head, a look of pure terror momentarily distorting his features. He quickly regained his composure, only to find himself losing it once more as Spain injected the foreign fluid into his arm. His head spun, and he found that his smirking captor was slowly fading out of vision.

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><p><strong>AN: Everything I have been writing lately is super short! Gah, these chapters will get longer as they progress, lo siento!<strong>

**Spanish Translations:**  
><strong>Inglaterra: England<strong>  
><strong>Mi cariño: My sweetheart<strong>  
><strong>Perfecto: Perfect<strong>  
><strong>Amor: Love<strong>  
><strong>Dios: God<strong>  
><strong>Puta: Whore (And this is extra degrading because he—purposely—used the female form)<strong>  
><strong>Mi muñequito: My little dolltoy (It can mean either, really, and the masculine form is often used to mean the latter)**


	2. Paradox

**AN: I am a bad, bad lady. I am bad and should feel bad. Feel free to pelt me with things.**

**Warnings: Same as last time.**

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><p>Arthur tilted his head back and groaned in agony. His whole body began to shake and shiver. "W-what the h-hell is th-this?" Spain smirked and tossed the used needle over his shoulder. "As I said before, I have simply <em>no<em> idea. Why, are you in _pain_?" Mock concern creased the Spaniard's handsome features.

"Am I in pain? Ha! I know what your goal is, Antonio, and it's not going to work. I'm _England_, you bloody git, it's going to take more than this to break me!"

"Heh, is that a challenge? Because I would be _more_ than happy to prove you wrong." Antonio pulled another syringe from the box. England looked him dead in the eye.

"Do your _worst_, bastard."

Spain chuckled. "Oh no, we're simply building up to that. Wouldn't want to rush to the climax, what kind of story would _that_ make for?" He injected the liquid into Arthur's neck, bringing a look of mixed shock and pain to the Brit's already ashen face. England squeezed his eyes shut and let out short, ragged breaths. "B-burning…everything…b-b-burns." He wanted to be able to curl up, find a way to sooth his aching body, but the chains restraining him removed any possibility of comfort. "M-make it st-st-stop…" Antonio smirked. "Begging? _Already_? And here I thought you were unbreakable."

Still breathing heavily, Arthur glared at him. "I wasn't asking _you_. I wasn't asking anyone…"

"If you say so." Spain disposed of the second needle in a similar manner as the first. "It's not as thought I'd be able to help you, anyway."

"I don't need your bloody help!"

"I suppose you think you'll be able to help yourself? Or are you, perhaps, waiting on the _hero_ to come save you?"

"You shut up about him!"

"How sweet, still so very protective of your darling little brother—"

"I said, shut up!"

"Fine, fine." Antonio took a large butcher knife out of the box. He held it up to the beam of moonlight that shone through the tiny cellar window. The light glimmering off it gave the knife a horrible sinister appearance, and Arthur shuddered at the sight of it.

"You've got to be kidding me…"

"Pretty, isn't it?" Spain slid a long, tanner finger down the knife.

"You're fucking mad if you think you're putting that knife anywhere near me!"

"Heh, well then it's good that I've already come to terms with the fact that I'm completely insane." He began to press the edge of the knife slowly into Arthur's arm.

England drew in a sharp breath. "N-no…"

Spain simply laughed. "You know, a nation's body is truly a spectacular vessel. Any mere human would never be able to withstand the things that I have planned for you. But look, some of your cuts are already beginning to heal themselves."

"Why are you doing this, Antonio?"

"I don't believe I can give one simple answer to that. Why does anyone do anything at any point in time?"

"Fine, then. Why are you doing this to _me_?"

"Oh, any number of reasons."

"I thought you would have gotten over the whole Armada thing by now!"

Upon hearing the word 'armada', Antonio dug the knife even deeper into Arthur's arm. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't."

"Son of a bitch! You're going to hit bone!"

Spain ripped the knife from England's flesh. Arthur watched in horror as droplets of his own blood slid off the knife and on to the concrete floor below. Antonio caught one drop on a finger tip and smeared the blood across Arthur's pale cheek. "Red and white contrast each other so very nicely… You're losing your colour."

"Crazy bastard… Of course I am, with you slitting me open and injecting me with God knows what!"

"Of course." He dropped the knife carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a loud clatter.

"Good God, are you finished?"

Antonio smiled slyly at him. He took the corkscrew from the box. "Oh no, mi dulce. I'm just getting started." He took the corkscrew from the box.

"The hell do you plan to do with that, open some wine?"

Spain laughed manically. "Not quite."

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><p><strong>Feel free to pelt me with me with more things for being lazy and ending here. I'll update soon OTL<strong>


	3. We're Sorry

**AN: I am done with this fic. Done. Finished. So done. I'm sorry.**

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><p>But before England could ever find out what that corkscrew was for, Jason Voorhees burst through the wall on a motorcycle and used magic to turn Arthur into dust. He then made passionate love to Spain on the floor, and then they hopped on to his motorcycle and road off into the sunset.<strong><br>**

The end.


End file.
